


Understanding

by frek



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, M/M, Merry Smutmas Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-05
Updated: 2006-12-05
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:15:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frek/pseuds/frek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry is searching an abandoned Grimmauld Place, when he discovers something he hadn't expected to find.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Understanding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ms_katonic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ms_katonic/gifts).



> Written for ms_katonic for Merry Smutmas 2006.

Harry picked up the object before him and examined it. It was just one of the many things that filled the house, nothing special, just an ordinary item. All he knew was that it wasn't what he needed. He sighed, placing the item back on its table, covering the dust-free spot it had created. He had been searching in this building for only a few short hours now, but he hadn't found anything yet. Harry was certain the object for which he quested was nestled somewhere in the shambles of this long empty residence - if he only knew where to look.

He turned to the dark room, feeling a cold draft slip through the broken windows and down his neck. He shivered in response before moving on to other parts of the house. As he walked, Harry watched the clouds of dust swirl up in his wand light, finally disturbed after years of settling. That which didn't move served to muffle his footsteps, leaving only the protesting squeaks of ancient floorboards and the rustle of his clothes to reach his ears. But even with these sounds, the unnerving silence within the building pressed in on him, making him feel as if he were going deaf. What kind of house was this that even rodents didn't want to take shelter from the cold winds outside? It seemed wrong to Harry that a building that had held any life before could be so devoid of it now.

Harry stepped into the kitchen, holding his wand before him, casting a pale glow over the cabinets and counters. Piles of plates and glasses filled the sink, coated with a thick layer of dust over the antique grime. On one counter a plate set piled with chicken bones, the meat long since rotted away. He wandered through the kitchen, opening cabinets here and there, following the light as it cast shadows into the crevasses of the shelves. Still finding nothing, he moved on to another room down the nearest hallway.

Harry pushed the door open slowly, the hinges creaking in protest. Glancing around, Harry knew this was the master bedroom. It was large, almost cavernous. One wall was dominated by a large canopy bed, its heavy dust-laden drapes cloaking the pillows and headboard in deep shadow. Harry's weak wand light couldn't penetrate it. On each side of the bed stood night tables, their spindly legs barely holding up the lamps placed upon them. Harry walked to one of the tables and in examining the lamp, was surprised to find oil still inside its fount. He reached in the chimney with his wand and silently lit the wick, adjusting the draft with the key.

Once he had sufficient light, Harry turned to the room. He looked over the bed, holding the lamp high. The last person to sleep there had made the bed carefully; the pillows were arranged neatly by the headboard and the drapes were neatly tied back. Harry glanced around the room once more, taking in a wingback chair, its once vibrant upholstery now faded to a more grayish hue. Beside the chair was a small table, where a pipe rested - cobwebs securing it in place. The armoire against one wall was filled neatly with old-fashioned clothes, though they appeared to have been worn past their prime. Elbows were patched and edges seemed to be fraying in multiple places. Whatever it was Harry was searching for, it wasn't in this room. He turned to leave when something caught his attention.

After moving through the house for several hours and noticing the preternatural stillness within, it was no surprise that even the slightest sensation of movement would put Harry on guard. Harry twisted around to face the spot where the movement came from. He was greeted with the same wingback chair he had just examined, empty beside a boarded window. He held his wand ready in one hand and held the oil lamp high in the other. It was too strange; he could have sworn he felt something move, but his eyes told another story.

After searching the room for a moment and feeling quite foolish, he spoke up. "Who's there?"

Having no response, Harry let out a breath he had just realized he was holding. His nerves were shaky and he wasn't feeling that great either. This search was definitely taking a toll on his mind and body.

Harry breathed deeply, longing to shake off the feeling of unease, but it was in vain. He needed a break from this, but was too determined to allow himself a chance to stop. He shook his head fiercely, hoping to perhaps dislodge the thoughts that were causing his nerves to fray. He moved back to the same chair and placed the oil lamp on the small table, knocking the antique pipe loose of the cobwebs. A cloud of dust blew up from the table in response, drifting curiously over the chair. Harry rubbed his eyes behind his glasses, certain he was seeing things. But after he cleared the dust from his lenses and blinked, he realized he wasn't crazy. The dust had settled just right over some thing on the chair, coating it. Harry suddenly recognized the form. There was someone in the chair; someone who had chosen to remain invisible.

Harry raised his wand at once, prepared to hurt or even kill whoever was under the invisibility cloak, almost certain that he was in danger himself. He never took his eyes from the spot on the chair, but through the corner of his eyes, he could see his hand shaking. He was clearly unnerved.

Trying to put on as much bravado as he could muster, Harry spoke loudly and steady, forcing the words out, "I know you're there," he called out to the invisible form. "Show yourself and nobody gets hurt." Right, Harry thought, that sounded good - tough, even.

But to his horror, his commands weren't met with compliance. Instead he watched as the form beneath the dust shook so that the dust began to drift off. This was followed shortly by cruel laughter. Cruel enough to send another wave trembling through Harry's body.

Harry's eyes narrowed at the source of the laughter. "Voldemort?" he whispered to himself.

This was met by more laughter. Harry shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what to do next. Finally, though, someone spoke.

"Please, Potter," the disembodied voice began, just as hate-filled as his laughter. "Do you really think with the whole of the wizarding world after him, the Dark Lord would hide here? Just the mere notion is incredibly dimwitted - even for you, Potter."

The owner of the voice finally dawned on him. "Snape!" Harry accused, taking a step back from the man, disgust already clouding his thoughts. He wanted nothing more than to see this man dead.

Proving Harry correct, the invisibility cloak slipped from the man's body, revealing his sallow face in the flickering lamplight. Harry glared at Snape as if he could kill him with his stare. "Clearly," Snape spoke, standing from the chair, "leaving Hogwarts wasn't in your best interests, Potter." He smiled at Harry, his yellow teeth suddenly reminding Harry of vampires and their fangs.

"So," Snape's silken voice continued, "what was Potter searching for here?" His dark eyes focused on Harry; he was clearly enjoying the situation. "Surely you don't expect to find much in this abandoned dump."

Harry was mesmerized. He had fantasized about this moment, the hate boiling with every moment he thought about it. But suddenly faced with the man he hated more than anything, Harry couldn't seem to do a thing. He felt unable to move, rooted to his spot.

Snape continued to walk toward Harry, his wand held loosely in his hand. He watched the young man's reactions as he spoke, delighted to see him pale with fear. "Well?" Snape asked, "do you plan on doing anything? Or do you simply want to watch me here?"

He looked into Harry's eyes, searching just a moment before catching a glimpse of what he wanted. "So you mean to kill me?" Snape stopped before Harry, staring down into his face. "What are you waiting for?"

Snape reached out with his free hand and grabbed a handful of Harry's hair, pulling his head back, forcing Harry to face him. He leaned down, his face so close to Harry's he could see the pulse in his temple jump. "I don't think you can do it."

At those words, Harry found himself again. He reached out with both hands and shoved Snape away from him, knocking the man back several feet. He held his wand up once more, pointing it right at Snape's chest. "You're wrong," he said through gritted teeth. He could do this, Harry told himself. He'd been waiting months for such an opportunity. Finally it had presented itself.

"Good, Potter," Snape said, straightening out. "Then why are you still just standing there?"

Snape bent down and picked up his wand, purposefully taking his eyes from Harry. He honestly felt Harry was not a threat. He watched Harry, still holding his wand out - though not as forcefully as before.

"You know, Potter, killing, even hurting someone takes a certain strength, or will. You have to not care. About what happens to them or what happens to you. You have to do it without feeling. Do you understand, Potter?" he asked, now pacing before Harry, as if he were still his professor. "You can't care; you can't feel. I look at you now, in your eyes, your mind. You care, Potter, you feel. You live and thrive on emotion. In order to kill and torture, you have to want it. Want it so bad that you'll forego everything else just to have it. In a sense, you lose the very things that make you human. You lose yourself."

Snape's voice got quiet as he spoke the last sentence, the memories his words conjured fighting their way to the surface. He shook his head and settled before Harry, watching the emotions play on his face. Harry's wand was once more at his side. It appeared as if he had given up.

Harry stood still, his shoulders slumped. He focused his gaze to the floor as he thought about what Snape had said. Inside, he knew that what Snape said was true. He really couldn't kill. He knew it, yet he still wanted to believe otherwise. He raised his eyes to meet Snape's. Unflinching, he finally spoke, "You killed Dumbledore." And that was unforgivable.

Snape didn't turn his eyes away. He wanted Harry to understand the truth. Dumbledore's death weighed heavily on his shoulders, and he wanted nothing more than to change what had happened. Potter didn't understand the whole truth, though. He didn't realize the agony that he had gone through when Dumbledore had made his final decision.

Snape sighed and turned back to the chair which had hidden him. "Sit down, Potter, there'll be no killing today." Just the thought of any more deaths made it hard to breathe. He sat down in the chair, once more throwing dust into the air.

Harry eyed Snape suspiciously. He didn't trust Snape, but he seemed to be speaking the truth. Harry took a deep breath. He slid his wand back into its holster, and settled to the floor. "Then what?" he asked unsurely.

Snape set his wand in his lap, alongside the invisibility cloak. "I have some explaining to do. There's a lot that has been kept from you, Potter." He took another deep breath, bringing forth the events he'd been trying to suppress for months now.

"Dumbledore died," he began, dreading the conversation to follow, "but I didn't kill him."

Snape watched as Harry opened his mouth to talk. He held up his hand to keep him quiet. "Please, let me speak my part and then you can say whatever you wish. This is difficult enough without your anger."

Harry looked confused, but allowed Snape to continue. "I didn't kill Dumbledore," he reiterated. "Though, there isn't a day that goes by that I don't blame myself for his death. Destroying the Dark Lord's ring; that was what really killed him. I was only to 'stopper' his eventual death with the use of an exceptionally strong and difficult potion. What happened to his hand would have happened to the entirety of his body if I hadn't been able to put a stop to it."

Snape paused to take a breath, watching closely the reactions on Potter's face. Potter seemed surprised at the thought that Dumbledore had been on the verge of death the whole term.

Snape cleared his throat, then continued, "One night, Dumbledore called me to his office; he had a favor to ask of me. I arrived to see that he was unusually upset and nervous. He led me out of the castle and over the grounds. As we walked, he spoke of his fears for you, for me. He didn't want me to be discovered for what I was. His favor was to ensure that I would stay concealed within the Death Eaters and that he wouldn't have to suffer at the hands of the Dark Lord. That would ensure you were safe. He asked me to end the hold the potion held on him at the moment of his choosing."

Harry's eyes widened in sudden understanding. Hagrid had told him that he had overheard Snape and Dumbledore arguing one night. It made perfect sense.

"I argued with him," Snape continued, confirming Harry's thoughts. "I could do no such thing. Ending the potion was as good as killing him. I was already responsible for so many deaths, I didn't want Dumbledore's to be amongst those. He was adamant, though. I had no choice. I accepted his fate, in turn sealing mine. No one knew of our pact, which was how he wanted it. From the moment he died, I couldn't go back to the Order. In the wizarding world, I would be perceived as just another Death Eater. It would be my job to fully engage myself in the ranks, and hopefully be able to share the knowledge I secured with someone from the Order. Though, I honestly believed that I would never have the chance to speak with anyone again."

Snape took a shaky breath, trying to hold in the emotions flooding to the surface, wondering how his composure could have worn away. This was neither the time nor the place to break down. In front of Potter, of all people. Snape gave up and rested his head in his hands, thinking briefly about covering up with the cloak once more.

Harry thought about all that Snape had said, understanding the events that led to Dumbledore's death and how he had perceived it all wrong. Snape was no guiltier than he was, though Harry could understand the responsibility the man felt. The same responsibility troubled Harry about Cedric's death and Sirius' death. Neither killed these men, but they both shared the pain of responsibility. For once in his life, Harry sympathized with Snape.

He got to his knees and moved beside Snape, who was still hunched over, hiding his face in his hands. He looked up at Snape from his place on the floor, seeing Snape's long fingers cradling his face. Harry reached up and placed one hand on each of Snape's, prying them open slowly, exposing his pain-filled features. He looked more than hurt, he was tired and worn. He'd been suffering with this for a long time now.

Looking into Snape's dark eyes, Harry felt a surge of compassion that he never could have felt before. Dumbledore had meant as much to Snape as he had to Harry, which Harry never really understood until that moment. Both men were mourning someone who was more than a teacher or colleague; they were mourning a friend, a father. Harry reached forward and pulled Snape into an awkward embrace.

Snape stiffened as Harry wrapped his arms around him, taken off guard by the sudden kindness he was being shown. The only person who had ever showed that he cared for Snape was Dumbledore, but at least he knew his boundaries. Even with his experience in the wizarding world, Harry was sometimes blatantly naïve. Snape allowed Harry his comfort for a moment before placing a hand on each of Harry's arms and holding him back so he could clearly see his face.

What he saw was almost as strange as being held. Harry was looking back at Snape, compassion showing clearly in his face, his eyes heavy with unshed tears. It was unusual to see these emotions directed toward him. It was even more unusual to see them on Harry's face, whose features just minutes ago displayed anger and hurt so deep, he was certain he'd never overcome it.

Snape searched Harry's features for a moment before surprising himself by pulling Harry back to him. He held him tightly, becoming accustomed to the sensation of an embrace. It seemed so new and different to him, creating feelings within he hadn't experienced in many years. They spread through his body, warming his heart and softening the hurt and anger he'd been dealing with for so long.

Harry's mind ran rampant as Snape held him close. When he reached out to Snape, he had never expected a response like this. Dismissal and anger were more what he had expected, but never acceptance. He felt surprisingly comfortable in the other man's arms, safe and welcome, more than he had felt in anyone else's. These feelings came to him unbidden and confused him, clouding his mind more than it had already been.

Harry turned to look at Snape, to try and understand what the other man was feeling. As he did so, he brushed his lips across Snape's rough cheek, sending a rush through his body that he hadn't anticipated. Snape turned his head toward Harry, and in an instant, their lips met. Harry didn't move, too stunned to do anything more than stare into the other man's dark eyes. He felt Snape's lips against his own, relaxed, just barely parted. His own lips moved of their own accord against Snape's, pressing together and pulling his mouth closer until Harry felt Snape's bottom lip between his own.

Harry kissed Snape only for a moment before realizing what he was doing and moving away quickly, falling clumsily to the floor. "I… Oh, Merlin…" He spoke quietly, his eyes darting in every direction but at Snape, his face burning bright with embarrassment. He wanted desperately to crawl into a dark corner and forget what he did, what he felt. But the remembered feel of Snape's mouth against his own wouldn't let him be.

Snape closed his eyes, trying his damnedest to ignore the thoughts in his mind and failing miserably. Somehow he had let his guard down and let Potter get close. He hadn't expected to kiss him. Least of all, he hadn't expected to like it. What had happened to him? Snape shook his head, hoping maybe he could dislodge the thoughts that were causing him such confusion. Instead all he could focus on was Potter's soft skin and the swell in his own trousers.

When Snape opened his eyes, he found himself looking at Potter, sprawled on the floor before him. His gaze roamed over Potter's lean body, settling on those parts he most and least wanted it to settle on. Finally he forced himself to look into Potter's face, to try and learn something from his telltale eyes. What he saw was a reflection of his own thoughts and desires. Could it be true? Snape shook his head and stood up, reaching out a hand to help Potter to his feet.

Harry looked up at Snape, trying to avert his eyes from Snape's piercing gaze. He was aware that Snape was using Legilimency, painfully aware. It caused the blush in his face to deepen as he realized Snape knew what he had been feeling just moments before, what he still was feeling. Harry tried to ignore what came to mind as he reached up and took Snape's hand. He wouldn't get anywhere if he let his body take over.

Harry had made a firm decision to ignore whatever impulses his body had sent him before he got to his feet. Regardless of what decision he had come to, though, his body had other prerogatives. One of which was to take the sense he had and forget it entirely. Harry stood up and immediately started to move toward Snape, feeling as if they were drawn together by some invisible force. Before he realized what was happening, Harry found his arms wrapped around Snape, more intimately than before, stretching up to kiss Snape once again.

Harry snaked a hand around Snape's head, curling his fingers in his long hair. He moved his mouth over Snape's, biting, sucking. His body felt like it was nothing but nerves, everything tingled and he couldn't press against the other man enough. With his other hand, he pulled Snape close, grinding his hips against Snape's. The sensations made Harry's mind swim with desire, letting him forget every thought and worry he had when the encounter had begun. All that remained was the craving and need; an urgency he hadn't felt before in his young life.

Snape had helped Harry up and was intending on walking away before he got any more involved with his own twisted fantasies. To his dismay, Harry hadn't been able to keep his mind any more than he had been able. That dismay quickly dissipated as Snape's senses were overridden with Harry's hot mouth moving over his own and his lithe body pressing against him. He let all decorum slip away as he began to work in time with Harry, lips running down Harry's rough cheeks and kissing his neck, Adam's apple, collar bone, stopping only when his shirt wouldn't give.

Harry let a moan escape his throat as Snape ran a hand over the front of his trousers, moving on to remove his shirt. He looked up into Snape's face as his pale flesh was exposed, watching as Snape's eyes followed the length of his torso, settling on the dark trail of hair leading into his pants. A flicker of a smile formed on Snape's swollen lips before disappearing again. Harry shivered with anticipation at what that smile promised.

Snape drank Potter's unclothed form, greedy to capture even more of it in his gaze. He quickly threw off his cloak and shirt, revealing his own pale skin. Snape's skin was a story of years of pain and torture; scars ran like snakes over his back and a few marred his chest and abdomen. They held a story he hadn't told anyone in his lifetime, and he wasn't sure he would.

Snape reached out to Potter once more and finally ran his fingers over the buttons that held his trousers closed. He hesitated there for a moment, his fingers trembling at the prospect of what he was about to do. After several moments spent on the verge of turning and running, he removed the only boundary between him and his desire. He undid the buttons on Potter's trousers and slid them down his legs, followed quickly by his pants.

Snape's gaze fell on Potter's hard cock as it was exposed, and he couldn't help himself. He reached out with his hand and slid his long fingers over the smooth skin, enjoying the feel within his fingers. He dropped to his knees before Potter, glancing up, their eyes meeting only briefly.

Snape leaned forward, one hand sliding between Potter's legs, cupping his sac. He ran his tongue over the length of his straining cock, circling around the head before taking the length into his mouth. His mouth over Potter's cock, he began sucking and running his tongue on the underside. As he did so, he moved his hand back and pressed against Potter's opening with a finger, careful not to push inside. Doing this, Potter pressed against him, his cock beginning to spasm. Snape ran his tongue under the head once more, drawing Potter's cock farther into his mouth as he came. Snape quickly swallowed the hot liquid as it filled his throat, giving Potter a moment to find his bearings before getting back to his feet.

Harry looked into Snape's dark eyes as he stood up. He had problems focusing on anything at the moment. Snape had just taken him in his mouth and made him feel like he had never felt before. His head was spinning and he knew that they weren't nearly finished yet.

Snape reached out to Harry and cupped his face in his hands. He pulled him close and kissed him deeply, probing Harry's mouth with his tongue.

Harry kissed back fervently, tasting himself on the other man's mouth. Anxiously, he quickly removed Snape's trousers and pants, enjoying the sight before him.

Snape pulled back as Potter finished unclothing him, watching as Potter's took in his body. Snape reached down and took his hand, directing it to his aching cock, running his unsure fingers over it. He closed his eyes as Potter's fingers discovered every centimeter of his cock, teasing the sensitive areas and brushing just the edge of his sac, sending shivers down his spine.

After a moment, Snape pulled Potter's hand away and used it to lead him to the bed. If he was going to lose every shred of decency with the man, he had some plans for him.

Harry followed Snape to the bed, where he was instructed to bend over. He knew what was coming and surprisingly, he wasn't worried. He stood, bent over the bed, anxious, waiting for Snape's touch. He didn't wait long. After just a few short moments, Harry felt Snape's cool, coated fingers brushing over his opening, pressing gently inside. Harry felt his fingers working inside, one at a time, then more as he progressed. It was uncomfortable at first, but the more Snape moved inside him, hitting that spot, the better it felt to Harry. After a few more moments, Harry was moving with Snape's fingers, moaning as Snape moved just right.

Snape pulled his fingers out as Potter began to move along with him, knowing the man was ready for more. He coated his cock with the liquid before pressing it against the opening, slowly pushing inside. He heard Potter let out a loud gasp as he moved inside. The feeling of Potter around his cock made Snape's head swim. He could barely hold on to the moment before his body took over and he rocked his hips against Potter, small noises even escaping his lips. It had been so long since he'd been able to truly enjoy himself, and Snape knew this time it would end all too soon.

Snape reached around Potter's body, grabbing the man's once more erect cock in his hand. As he rocked inside Potter, he pumped his fist over his cock, allowing himself to be lost in the sensations that flowed through his body. His vision got dark as he moved and his motions became erratic. Before he knew it, Snape had come inside Potter, his body trembling all over from exertion. As he relaxed and draped himself over Potter, he finished bringing him to climax a second time, fisting his cock until he felt the come run over his fingers. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked it off, tasting as he swallowed.

Snape moved beside Potter and dropped down on the bed, releasing a cloud of dust around the pair. He coughed until the air cleared before turning to Potter. Snape looked the man over, coming to terms with what they had done, making himself understand the events that led to this moment. He offered a weak smile, nothing more than the small assurance he had just found for himself.

Harry gazed at Snape, his eyes getting heavy with sleep as he lay beside the man, completely sated. He caught the small smile offered by his former professor as well as the softly spoken words before he drifted off. "We need to talk, Potter…"

Harry murmured a quiet reply, running his fingers delicately over Snape's scars, "Soon," he said before joining Snape in much needed rest.


End file.
